Monster
by Magneto's Revenge
Summary: Norman Osborn has been in the custody of S.H.I.E.L.D., comatose after the events of Ultimate Six. He's got to wake up sometime...


This story takes place some time after the "Ultimate Six" crossover.

The Green Goblin, the Ultimates, S.H.I.E.L.D, Spider-Man, and the assortment of other super-beings that appear in the tale belong to Marvel Comics, Inc. Most anyone else is too insignificant to lay claim to.

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Prologue: Containment

The hushed whirr of several computers analyzing various data strains filled the laboratory, deep within the labyrinth of the Triskelion, home to the Ultimates and land-based headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D. The room was much larger than it appeared, for nearly every inch of space was filled with rows upon rows of processors, the walls were covered in monitors, and much of what was left of the floor-space was hidden underneath tangles of wires and cables.

The purpose of this room was the upkeep of the regenerator tank which was placed meticulously in the center of this bedlam of technology. Inside the tank floated the form of Norman Osborn, sleeping peacefully under the influence of the gas that seeped into his respirator. He looked pale in the blue liquid that kept him in stasis, almost appearing as if he was never to awaken again. Suspended upright, his legs and arms dangled at his sides lifelessly but for the subtle pulsing that coursed through his veins with every heartbeat.

Amidst the quiet cacophony, a door at the far end of the room slid open. In walked a tall man in a long, white lab coat, ticking off a checklist on his clipboard. Carefully making his way to the center of the room, he tip-toed over layers of wire and stopped in front of the tank.

"Evening, Mr. Osborn. How's it hangin'?" he said to the slumbering figure. He received no response. "I crack me up..." He gave a tired chuckle and turned to the nearest monitor. Before he could check Osborn's specs, the door once again slid open. In walked two more scientists, an older man and a woman with long, black hair. The first turned to greet them.

"Hello, Dr. Aaron. I assume you're prepared for hours of limitless data examination in the Shari case?"

"Evening, Rawlins. How's he doing?" The newcomer ignored the sarcastic commentary.

"I was just about to check. But who's this?" he indicated the woman to Aaron's left.

"Dr. Natella Barova, sir. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the elegant woman offered Dr. Rawlins her hand. He shook it and nodded.

"That's quite an accent, doctor. Mind my asking where you're from?" Rawlins smiled.

"Of course, sir. I was born in a small village in Latveria. I came to the United States to attend university. Soon after I graduated, S.H.I.E.L.D. research and development hired me for Super Soldier development."

"Dr. Barova is a new recruit to the Osborn project. She'll be my assistant for the time being until she's ready to take over."

"Oh?"

"In a year's time, I plan to be spending every last cent of my retirement on a private island in the Bahamas and the million-dollar mansion I'm going to put there," Aaron said seriously, pouring over a printout lying over a computer. Rawlins laughed and turned back to the monitor he had been about to inspect.

"Anyhow," Aaron picked up a moment later, "I'd like you to fill Dr. Barova in on the full details. She's already been briefed on the basics. I have to supervise the team examining the Marko remains."

"Sure thing," Rawlins waved as his senior exited the room, then turned to the woman that had walked over to the tank, "uh-I guess if you have any questions, we can start there, Natella. If you don't mind me calling you that."

"Not at all. I have many questions, but very few about the job. Mostly what I want to know is about Osborn before he was sedated."

"Oh, yeah…he was a piece of work all right. What do you want to know?"

"The details of why he was put into stasis in the first place for one thing."

"That's easy. He was just too difficult to handle conscious. Spider-Man made it that much easier for us to do so when he and the Ultimates knocked him out. I guess you know about the breakout six months ago."

"Actually, not much of it was told to me, and there was little about it in the file I was given when I was assigned this job," Natella continued to study the figure beyond the glass.

"Osborn and the other illegal genetic mutations staged this huge getaway. They killed almost everyone in the research levels before they took off. It was then that we found out for sure Osborn no longer needed the OZ serum to transform into that monster the press was calling the 'Green Goblin.' We had our suspicions before that, but couldn't risk removing the genetic dampeners we had him fixed with to find out. There was an amazing amount of the stuff in his bloodstream when he was captured." Rawlins finished with the computers and stepped up in front of the tank to stand next to her.

"Amazing," she pressed her hand to the glass. "He's in remarkably good shape for a man his age. His health must be off the charts."

"And it is. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll ever know if that's a direct result of OZ or if that's the way he was before. The research department would really like to know how close he was to creating the Super Soldier serum."

"It appears as though the only change was a temporary transformation into this 'Goblin.'"

"Correct. However, now that he can change apparently at will, he's just far too dangerous to keep unsupervised. Until the defense and weaponry department can figure a fail-safe way to keep him contained, this is the way it has to be. General Fury has made it clear that we can't afford another tragedy like the last time. Thirty-five soldiers and scientists. Damn shame." Rawlins shook his head, frowning.

"As the Goblin, I've heard his strength increases something like ten-fold," Natella watched Rawlins inquisitively.

"That it does. Would you believe this chamber was originally designed for the Hulk? We got lucky. He was taken care of before we actually had to build it large enough to fit him in. This goop costs more per gallon than three months of my salary," he tapped the glass with his knuckle. Natella merely raised her eyebrows.

"Hey, you wanna get some coffee while we talk? He can take care of himself for an hour or two," Rawlins picked up after a beat.

"Are you sure? I thought that we had to check his vitals now," she tore her gaze from the man in the stasis chamber.

"Done and done. Come on, we can talk about what the psychotherapist we had him talking to for a while had to say," Rawlins smiled down at her, waving toward the door.

"Now _that_ sounds interesting," she led the way. The door slid shut behind them. Their laughter echoed in the room for a moment before fading, leaving Norman Osborn by himself once again. Mere moments later, a sharp beep rang through the room. Its source was the monitor specifically assigned to the subject's brain activity.

Inside the tank, for the briefest of instants, a closed eye twitched. Almost as soon as it had begun, all was still again.


End file.
